There and Back Again
by Gelado Pocket-mouse
Summary: Gonzalo is welcomed to the FABULOUS house of of Trip and Grace - and with a magic 8ball, several life-changing journeys to black holes, and Maria the groovy 80's kid, it's sure to be a blast! (WARNING: Story not limited to the rules of normal Façade game play. You're welcome.)


"KNOCK, KNOCK!" I say suggestively, wiggling my eyebrows around even though I am currently in a featureless hallway where no one else can see the action. I can hear Grace and Travis arguing about Grace's masculine appearance through the wall, but I figure I'll let them work it out. I mean, I personally feel like it's Graces choice on whether or not she wants to come out of the closet about everything, but Trip's the kind of guy who doesn't give a crap about other people's feelings. I'm sort of wondering why he invited me over here in the first place. I mean, the last time I saw him, I burst out of his wedding cake and showered him with champagne. He was a little shocked at first but I'm sure it made him feel better (you know… about the whole MARRIAGE thing). In fact, maybe it's not that strange that he invited me here. I mean, we _were_, like, best pals in college. You know, while Grace was out slumming it up we were chugging beers in the back of Trip's work and vandalizing school property together. I'm very experienced at drawing Sharpie penises on his forhead now. Like, this one time when he was preparing for a date, I totally sneak attacked him. Sure, he was late since he had to take the time to freak out about it but I was like, _Who cares, it's an advertisement for your product! You're welcome!_ He got a lot of dates with my help but somehow he still ended up with Grace.

Aaaanyway, the point is, we were really close homis, but the thing is Trip hasn't talked to me in years. I mean he sort of eloped with Grace to Italy, and his parents _kiiiinda sorta _disowned him. And you can't just bring a thing like that up to a guy! While he was away for a couple years we didn't talk. And then, last year, I went to visit my friend Maria and found her making out with some chick. I was going to congratulate her on the find, but then I realized it was Grace. She kinda ran away after that. But anyway, that's how I knew Trip's travis was over and that he had returned. I figured he'd be kinda pissed off about the whole Maria thing, so I didn't bring it up.

Now I'm standing here, waiting for them to let me in. They're still complaining to each other, so I bang on the door again and say, "Sounds like someone needz to turn doze frowns upside down!" I'm waiting…waiting… yep, still waiting – oh no, wait, here he is.

"Gonzalo! It's great to see you, come on in!"

After Travis politely greets me, I tackle him in a bear hug. "How's my best buddy doing? I heard your trip to Italy was a success."

Travis laughs uneasily and I punch him in the shoulder. "Oh, but we'll talk about that later! We have so much to catch up on!"

"Uh – yeah! Come on in." However, Trip needn't have said this, since I am already in the room shaking his 8ball for all I am worth.

"Wow! I always wanted one of these! They're like Ouija boards in sphere form," I exclaim enthusiastically. Staring into the ebony depths of the 8ball, I proclaim, "Oh, mystical spirit, tell us how you died, you poor lost soul."

I read the tiny word revealed by the ball, _Don't count on it._ Strange. I find it hard to believe no one's ever died in this apartment. It's just so depressing and gray that you kind of have to wonder what frame of mind the decorator must have been in.

"Oh Gonzalo, you always were the funny guy…" Trip compliments.

"Hmm. So, how's the missus, eh?" I ask Trip, wiggling my eyebrows again.

"Oh, Grace! Well, uh, she's in the kitchen. I'll go get her," Travis responds.

"Oh no!" I yelp. "Trav, wait! The kitchen is such a long walk, you let me handle this." Handing him the 8ball, I cup my hands to my mouth and shout "YO GRACE! GONZALO'S IN THE HOUSE! COME JOIN US AS WE BESEECH THE DEAD TO TELL US OF THEIR STORIES THROUGH TRIP'S LARGE BLACK BALL!"

"Gonzalo!" Travis hisses at me, glaring.

"What?" I ask innocently. "Don't you want to talk to the dead?"

Then, I see Grace. "Oh, uh… hi! How are you Gonzalo? God, it's been a while!"

"Good to see you, girl. Now, kids, let's gather 'round the 8ball and ask questions to the ghosts," I respond cheerily.

"What?" Grace asks uncertainly, eyeing her husband.

"Well, you figure the dead don't get much opportunity for chat, so I always try to make some time for them. Besides, it's a great party activity!"

Trip sizes me up. Neither he nor Grace are gathering 'round. I however, am sitting cross-legged on the floor, swaying to… nothing. "Hey, we could use some music! Got any cool jams?"

"Come on, this isn't college anymore. We're gonna have a nice, sophisticated party. In fact, why don't I go fix us some drinks?" Travis puts in. Oh, sophistication, complete with grown-up water. Classy.

"Well, okay."

"Trip, you're making our friend uncomfortable," Grace says. Turning to me, she says, "maybe you'd just like some juice or mineral water?"

Looking around at the hopefully smiling Travis, and the woman next to me, I say, "I'll think I'll take a butterbeer."

The other two stare at me.

"What, that was _obviously_ a Harry Potter reference. Don't you rich kids ever read?" I say exasperatedly.

"I think I'll just open up a bottle of Bordeaux. Does that sound good?" Travis compromises.

"Pfft, if you're a muggle." God, these non-wizarding folk think they're all that. "You know what, I think I'll go check out your kitchen."

"Oh, you shouldn't have to do that, you're our guest! If you're hungry, I'd be happy to get you something," Grace offers.

I consider her proposal. Turning to her pointedly, I question, "Do you even have food? 'Cause I was kind of hoping this would be like a dinner… thing."

Trip, who is busy pouring drinks, butts in, "Oh, well, Grace _does _have a passion for hors d'oeuvres."

Grace looks like she's about to say something, but as I stare at her, I can't help but notice a couple things. "Hors d'oeuvres? Honey, I think you should get a passion for four course meals; I mean look at that figure! How do you do it?"

Grace appears a bit surprised, and blushes. I can tell she feels complimented, but she'd probably be a lot more flattered if I was a woman. "Oh, well, thanks for noticing…"

"Yep, malnourished girls _are_ all the rage these days!" I happily reply.

Travis and Grace blink at each other. Travis says, "Well, Gonzalo, think you should maybe reign it in a bit?"

I stare back at him, hurt. Why would he want to hide my true self? Is he really my friend? Tearfully, I respond, "I think I should speak my mind. You know what Dr. Suess says, 'Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.'" Suddenly feeling hostile, I continue, "But you wouldn't know about that, you rich, too-good-for-books guy!"

"_What?_ What are you saying to me?" Trip questions angrily.

"I don't know how this went sour so quickly, but I'm not feeling the love! I thought we were best buddies, but now you won't give me butterbeer or food – I'm going to starve to death because of you and your stupid non-existent rich people food! I'm just trying to be nice, compliment Grace on her skeletal figure –"

"Oh, so now I'm skeletal, am I?" Grace cuts me off angrily. "Look, Gonzalo, I know you like to speak your mind and all, but you could at least make the _effort_ to be polite! You're making me feel bad about myself!"

"_You_ feel bad about yourself? _I_ feel bad about yourself! All you do is whine about how much you hate me, when I take you on nice trips to Italy!" Trip explodes.

"Oh_, _so now YOU'RE the victim? Did you _actually have the nerve_ to say what I think you just said? _You _fell bad about me? _Well, guess what, buddy, who's____ fault is THAT?_ It's not like-"

I don't hear the rest because at that point I tune them out. If they're going to argue (and not like me for who I am!) they could do that without me. They are, actually. But you'd think they could stop for just a bit when they have company over. I mean, _they_ invited _me_! I guess I could have done a little more to avoid an argument… man, their lives are so screwed up.

Travis and Grace continue to screech at each other, and I stare sadly at the discarded 8ball. _You're the only one that understands me, spherical communicator of the dead._ I lean down, pick it up, and wander into the kitchen. Just like the majority of the rest of the house, the walls are a blank, depressing grey. I try to open the fridge, but it's glued shut. Probably some rich people thing. But I'm starving. Hmmm… I meander out back into the main room and ignore the other two humans there, having eyes for only one thing: their phone. _Oh, thank the gods, I can order takeout. _But just as I reach for it, a shrill ring breaks the air. This jolts Grace and Travis from their fight to the death and both whip their heads around to stare at the phone, and me, my hand poised right above it.

"Umm… I'll get it!"

"Wait!" Grace and Trip shout desperately.

"Oh, please, you morons, there's no need to be antisocial, it's just…" I look at the caller ID, "…Harold."

This name seems to jolt Grace. "Oh, um, just let the answering machine get it, Gonzalo, it's fine!"

I look to Trip for reassurance. He shrugs, "It's just Grace's dad. We should talk to him. He's a fine gentleman."

"Oh!" I consider. We'll probably get along then. Encouraged, I ignore Grace's protests and pick up the phone.

"Yello? This is the _fabulous_ house of Travis and Gracey-poo! They're a bit tied up at the moment, but Gonzalo would be happy to take your call! Whether just a message, or if you want to have a nice, unwinding chat, I'm there for you! So, how's it going, Harold?"

I wait for an answer.

"What are you doing?" Trip hisses while Grace steams in anger.

"Don't worry guys, I got it under control. I'm a great people person," I reassure them.

_"Excuse me?" _the voice on the other end questions, and I shush my friends.

_"May I speak with Grace?"_ Harold continues.

"Sure thing. I'll put you on speaker phone." Pressing the button, I brandish the phone to Travis and Grace. "Say 'hi' guys!"

"Er… hello, Harold. Nice to hear from you! You've met our friend, Gonzalo," Trip responds with a cough.

I stare at Grace. "You too, honey."

She sighs. "Hello, Dad."

_Hi! I was just calling to see how things are going with you guys… but I see you have company over. Call me tomorrow then, yeah?_ Harold's voice comes through the phone.

"Of course…" Grace trails off.

"You bet they will, Harold! I'll make sure of it!… just don't die. They don't like using Ouija 8balls for some reason."

_Uh… yes, well… We'll talk later Grace? Er… bye then._ I heard the tone that signaled Harold had hung up.

"What a nice dude," I remark. Then, I suddenly gasp and clasp my hand to my stomach. "Oh! I need food! That chat with Harold took more out of me than… than I thought. Whew… just need to call… the pizza… guy…"

I search around with pained eyes, and find the drinks, half-poured on the bar. "Oi, Trav, be a good boy and hand me some sustenance until I can get a hold of something more solid."

"Uh, yes, drinks… I guess that's where we were," Trip mutters, before shoving some Bordeaux in my face. I chug it, and then slam numbers into the phone. I've memorized Domino's number by heart.

"Yo, Vincent," I cough into the phone.

"Gonzolo? How are ya, bro?" Vincent laughs back from the other end.

"…starving... give me a pepperoni… extra l-large… bring it to- to…" it's hard to talk with my sluggish tongue, I feel so weak, and I don't think the alcohol helped. AND I don't even know Trip's address. I stare beseechingly at Trip with my puppy dog eyes, begging him for help. Trip just stares at me incredulously. Wow, thanks, buddy. I can always count on you. With no other choice, I roll over to Grace.

"Help, Gr-racy… poo… , wud is – yo… yo ad-ress?"

"Oh, come on, Gonzalo, you're being a bit overly dramatic here, don't you think?" Grace says pityingly.

"Just… just talk – to…" Oh God, I'm not sure if I can continue. My arms holding the wine glass and phone are trembling with exertion, beads of sweat are dripping down my face, and my stomach is so hollow, I won't be surprised if it collapses into a black hole and swallows the entire universe.

_Gonzalo? What's going on? Shouldn't I just bring the pizza to your place?_

No! I panic. He can't bring it to my place while I'm here – then I'll never get it and I'll starve to death in this black and grey wasteland. Unless Grace and Trip want to talk to me through the 8ball, I'll be a goner.

"N…no… t-alk…t – Grace…poo," I whimper to Vincent, and with that, everything goes black.

§

Where am I? Who am I? In the words of Shakespeare, "To be or not to be?" And what's to say I'm anything? What if nothing is? What if nothing's not but what is not, as Shakespeare also says? Oh wait… Shakespeare? He existed… that must mean that other things do to.

Then what am I? Well, that's obvious. I'm Gonzalo! But _where_ am I? I try to look, but there is nothing. _I_ am nothing. What happened? There is a void of empty _nothing_ surrounding me. I try to remember something that isn't nothing, and I remember hunger. Horrible, crippling, back-breaking, stupefying hunger. And like a dam has broken, suddenly the memories come flooding back.

I was at Travis'! I called Vincent for pizza. I wouldn't have been surprised if my stomach collapsed into a black hole. Wait… black! Am… is this a black hole?

No, this is nothing.

"Well, all I have to say is that this party has _NOT_ been your best, Trip." Then I reconsider. "Well, actually, maybe it _is_ YOUR best, but that's not saying much."

I float around in nothingness for a bit, supposing I finally died of hunger, which I can't really do anything about. And then, suddenly… chaos. Pandemonium. Armageddon. It feels like an earthquake, except a lot more unconfident and dick-y.

And then suddenly I know.

Trip is shaking the 8ball.

"OH, so THIS is what it's like to be stuck in the Ouija-ball."

The shaking continues. "Oh, come on Trip! You wouldn't have anything to do with the ball when _I _wanted you to be a part of the ceremony, but now that I'm stuck in it, you're fine with it!"

I blow a puff of air in a frustrated sigh, before I gasp in sudden realization and horror. "Oh… oh no. Is _this_ really what I've been subjecting the dead too all this time?"

The shaking continues.

"Oh, have I really been so cruel?!" I scream in utter anguish and crippling guilt. "I just wanted to be their friends – I didn't mean to annoy the hell out of them! I'm sorry! I'm sorry dead people! I just wanted to help you," I sniffle, as I continue to shake. Trip must be disappointed with the ball's results, and I think he just angrily slammed me in the table. Thanks, Trip.

I huddle in my guilt for a while longer, but through my sobs, I notice something. A scent… oh, it's good. Really good. And come to think of it, my stomach is aching a bit too much for comfort, hey, wait a min-

I jolt awake, screaming, "Mercy!" and look around in confusion. For several seconds, I think I'm in nothing again. Wait, no, that's just Trip and Grace's apartment, duh! I don't have any more time to ponder over this, however, as I am suddenly doubled over in hunger.

"Well, look who decided to come around," I hear a familiar voice comment.

"Oh, Grace, you have no idea, I was in Trip's ball, and there was a great earth quake, and I was quoting Shakespeare, and, OH MERCIFUL JESUS I'M HUNGRY!" I inform Grace, and I make sure to say the word that most people pronounce as "Jee-zus" as "Hay-zoos". I always do that, just so that no one will be insulted if they have a different religion. I mean, if they don't believe in Jee-zus, that's fine; I'm just talking about some guy named Hay-zoos for all they know.

"Are you _crying_?" she asks me, looking at my face.

"I dunno, probably. That was a pretty dramatic trip to nothing I just had."

"Okay, well, um, I ordered the pizza…" Grace starts, but can't finish, because suddenly I'm at the table the box has been laid on and am tearing open the box.

"Oh, yeah, _now___you have strength?" Grace mutters.

"Don't worry Grace, I can save some for you," I reassure her. "Well… hopefully."

Grace studies me, then nods. "I think I'll have some."

§

When Trip emerges from Hay-zoos knows where, Grace and I are sitting on the bar, drinking mineral water and shoving our faces with pizza. At least, I am. I'm very good at eating, but Gracey-poo seems to need a little help, so I make sure to take the time to stuff her face too.

Trip stops and looks at us. "What are you doing?!"

I look around. "Why so surprised? This _is_ a party, after all."

Travis growls and throws the 8ball at me. It lands in my mineral water. I glance at it. "I guess they can go for a swim."

Grace looks up, as if to admonish Trip for being rude, but he stalks off and hurls himself onto the couch, so I pull her back into our conversation.

"So there we were, Vincent still holding the crustacean and me foaming at the mouth –"

"Oh, I can imagine what he thought of that!" Grace says in delight. She's really warmed up to me.

"I know, right!" I agree laughing. "We're just standing there, caught red-handed, and then his boss is all like-"

I get distracted as I hear Trip muttering to himself. "I think I forgot how well you two get along…"

Grace looks to him, and says,"Oh, come on Trip, there's no need to be –"

"-and I was like, 'Oatmeal? Are you _crazy_?!'" I conclude, smiling breathlessly. I turn to see Grace and Travis busy having a staring contest. "Come on guys, turn those sad frowns upside down, 'cause I love to make you smile!" Seeing Trip stare angrily at the floor, I consider my half-eaten pizza crust. "Oh, Trip, you want some pizza? I mean, I know it ain't much compared to your rich people food, but don't you wanna try a bit of Vincent's crust? It's to die for!"

Trip turns to look at me. "What do you keep saying about 'rich people food?'" he asks with well-placed air quotes. "Gonzalo, I've been listening to what you've been saying tonight. You've been really… pushing me tonight, and I wonder: are you really me friend? Do you _really_ think insulting me, acting so rude, using _my_ money to order pizza, _flirting_ with Grace –"

"Wait," I interrupt him. "Trip, I just passed out on your floor and took a spiritual journey to the afterlife, and _this_ is what you're complaining about?" I get up off the bar. "And I am _not_ flirting with Grace, Travis! Sorry for trying to be at least slightly friendly! The fact that you would even accuse me of that is insulting to me! I mean, just because _you_ pressure lesbians into sharing things they might not be comfortable with, doesn't mean I do!"

Trip leaps off the couch, while Grace blushes and stammers, "_What?_ I am not a lesbian, there's no way – I mean I obviously love my husband –"

Trip and I stand, glaring at each other. Without breaking eye contact with me, Travis replies, "I know you do, baby. Let me take care of this."

I smirk. "Back to our college method of handling disputes then?"

Travis furrows his brow. "Duck."

Except I don't duck, and once again, everything goes black.

§

I blink and stare into… "Oh Hay-zoos, not NOTHING again!"

But as I hear muttered voices, I realize that what I am seeing is just the roof of Grace and Trip's apartment.

"Shh! He's awake!" I hear a voice whisper, which is quickly joined by a couple others that begin to converse hurriedly in hushed tones.

"Guys… are you trying to hide something from me? There's no need to whisper," I say. "Don't worry, I can forgive Travis… even if punching someone at a party is a bit rude."

"Well, he was asking for it! He insulted Grace, and me!" I hear a voice hiss, and I recognize it as Trip's.

"I did not!" I reply heatedly. "Look, sexuality isn't even important. I mean, it won't make me think any less of someone because of their preferences. I'm not like that. Unless their preferences happen to be for Nazis or oatmeal or something…"

I expect Trip to respond, but all I hear is some scuffling and feminine giggling. Yeah, that sounds like Trip. I decide to take advantage of the operational-ness of my neck and eyes and turn my head to see Trip sitting on the floor, hunched over the bottle – yes, the entire bottle – of Bordeaux, Grace kicking her feet into his back from her position on the bar, and Maria twirling in a circle and tittering to herself. Oh, so that's where that noise came from.

I heave myself up. "Hey, Marie, what brings you here? Now we can really get this party started! I bet you have some cool tunes on you, don't ya?"

Maria continues to spin in a circle. "Sure, 'Zalo! I'm taking requests," she smiles.

"Hmm…," I start…"Give me your best!"

Maria starts moonwalking over the floor, which is kind of strange-looking since she's dizzy from spinning, and begins to chant.

"S! –s –s –s, A! –a –a –a, F! –f –f –f, E! –e –e –e, T! –t –t –t, Y! –y –y –y! Safety! (Safety!) DANCE!"

"Woo hoo!" I shout, bopping my head. "Come on Trip, dance with me!"

"Duh duh, duh duh! Duh nun-nuh duh dah! Duh duh, duh duh! Duh nun-nuh duh nah!" Maria sings as she grooves across the penthouse.

I laugh and yank Trip up by the arm, making him drop the Bordeaux in surprise. "Come on, this is my jam!"

"Wait, Gonzalo, no! Wait – just… ah! Let go!" Trip scrambles, but I ignore him and grab both his hands, before proceeding to jump across his floor and wave his arms around, kicking my legs out. "Oh yeah!"

Maria giggles and grabs Grace, a bit more gently then I did with Trip. "Let's join those guys, shall we? _WE CAN DANCE IF WE WANT TO! WE CAN LEAVE YOUR FRIENDS BEHIND!"_ She loops her arm through Grace's, who smiles unsurely and nervously follows Maria onto the dance floor.

Maria continues to sing, "_BECAUSE YOUR FRIENDS DON'T DANCE AND IF THEY DON'T DANCE, WELL THEY'RE NO FRIENDS OF MINE!"_

I study Trip. He still seems hesitant about this whole thing. "Come on, Trip! You don't want to not be Marie's friend! You've gotta dance!"

"_AND WE CAN ACT LIKE WE COME FROM OUT OF THIS WORLD, LEAVE THE REAL ONE FAR BEHIND!"_ Maria is screaming eagerly.

"_Dansez!_" I insert perfectly, and I can hear Maria and Grace chuckling. I hope I can get my dance partner to warm up as much as Maria did.

Then, both Maria and I are crying something along the lines of, "Duh duh, duh duh! Duh-nuh nah duh da! Nuh nah, duh noh! Duh-dah duh naa nah!" After that, nobody can really remember the words, so the song becomes a random mixture of different verses and some other things as we sing over each other.

As Maria collapses into a fit of hysterics and Trip's eyes widen as he wonders what has happened to his life, I hear something over the commotion. "Hey, guys! Hear that?"

It sounds like muffled yelling. "It sounds like muffled yelling!" Maria comments and busts up into further barking laughter.

Hmm… I listen, cocking my ear. Well, actually, I can't move my ear, but I still try really hard! There's noises, yelling, some stomping… getting louder through the wall. "Hey… is that-"

I'm cut off as the door of Trip and Grace's apartment bursts open. "Excuse me, but do you mind? Because I sure as hell do!" yells a seething man.

"You mad, bro? What's your problem?" I question curiously.

He snarls, and responds, "MY problem? Oh, no, there's no problem, aside from the fact that the people above me are stamping around like good for nothing juveniles and screaming at the top o' their lungs!"

"Aww, that's rough buddy," I say sympathetically.

Trip, however, looks horrified. "Oh, I'm sorry!" he blurts. "We didn't mean to be to loud! We're just having a little… uh… get-to-together, and these guys are a bit rowdy-"

"Rowdy?" _Rowdy?_ Well if you don't keep you _rowdy_ friends shut up, someone will!" He flexes his muscles suggestively. "Are we gonna have any more problems?" No one says anything, although Maria's still laughing. The man turns and glares at her. "Got anything to say, missy?"

Maria manages to quell her insane chuckling and sighs contentedly. "Just one thing. Do you dance?"

The man sputters. "What? I – that's not… you know what, actually, I don't! Seeing as _I_ have some respect for the fact that I happen to live in an _apartment building_ with other people who could potentially be bothered by the racket of maniacs!"

"Oh," Maria says, neutrally. "Well then, you're no friend of mine." Then, she get's up, and slams the door in his face.

Trip stares in opened-mouthed horror at her behavior while Grace just stands by worriedly. I whistle. "Damn, he just got owned!" I yell at the man through the door.

"Maria!" Trip cries. "How… how could you… he's the landlord!" Trip turns to unleash his fury on Maria. "THERE'S NO WAY HE'S GOING TO LET US STAY HERE NOW!"

"_Damn right!_" the man calls from the other side of the door.

"Oh," Maria chuckles nervously as she witnesses Trip's upset… "I'll just be going then," she turns to look at the door. "As soon as Mr. Too-Good-For-Dancing leaves."

"Yeah, not that I'm complaining, Marie, but why'd you come here in the first place? Just for the party?" I ask Maria.

"Oh well actually," Grace answers, "I called the paramedics after Trip knocked you out. As it turns out…"

I turn to stare at Maria. "You're a paramedic?!"

"No, silly!" Maria tsks as if I'm talking to the dumbest person in the world. "They just let me use their phone because I dropped mine!"

"Where? Did it break?" I ask, on reflex.

"Well _obviously_ I don't know. Why would I use the paramedic's if I knew where _mine_ was?"

I turn to Grace and raise an eyebrow. "We don't know either," she responds.

"Hey, I'm not judging," I comment, then I notice Trip in the corner. He doesn't say anything but he's panting as if trying to contain something, and he's glaring at Maria and I.

"Yeah… um, I think Trav is due for one of his temper tantrums… is that guy still out there?"

"Oh, I don't think –" Grace starts.

"You know what, we'll just go this way," I resolve and step towards the window. "Oh but, before I go…" I run to my discarded mineral water, and take the Ouija 8ball out of it and place it on the table. "Don't want to drown the dead." I look sternly at Grace. "Make sure to feed them every day, and when you talk with them, don't shake too hard," I instruct her.

"What?" Grace questions, lost. "Who?"

"Oh, and make sure you put out fresh newspaper for them as well!" Maria adds, and I smile at her thankfully.

"Now, whadaya say we-"

"GET. **OUT!**" I hear Trip scream. "I _think_ you've been here long enough. I'll pretend to be fine, just. GO."

"Uh oh," Grace worries. She whispers to us. "You don't want to be here for his Hulk smash."

"I really don't," I agree. I remember those from college.

With Trip standing near the door, and the landlord guy maybe still out there, Maria and I hurry to the window. I open it. "Wow, nice view you got here."

"Yeah," Grace sighs. "I wish you two could stay longer; I was hoping you could tell me where I went wrong with my decorating."

I stop in shock. _Decorating?_ I think as I look around the bleak apartment. I can't tell it apart from a black whole, _even_ with a rainbow dildo inhabiting it (and I'm pretty sure they don't have those in space!) I'm not even sure how one accomplishes that. How could Grace have done…?

I turn to Maria, and we simultaneously gulp. "Uh..," Maria laughs nervously," It's… er… great!"

"Yeah," I begin, cautiously, "… great…"

"I really like its… painting?" Maria says unsurely.

Trip is too angry to not notice the fact that we're blatantly lying and then laugh at Grace that she's the only one that's unhappy with her decorating. It is this that reminds me of Trip's condition, and that we really should be going. Also the fact that Trip is currently holding the now broken Bordeaux bottle with its lethal shards pointing toward us just _might_ have something to do with it.

"Well, gotta go! Fight club!" I insert quickly and grab Maria before slamming open the glass pane and climbing out. We're pretty high up, but I'd rather risk falling to my death then have to compliment Grace's ability to make things look like black holes or be gored by Trip's incoming attack. Maria apparently has similar thoughts, and we both descend from the window, clutching the bricks of the wall as we lower ourselves as quickly as possible.

As I retreat, I manage to hear Grace say one last thing, "That isn't from our wedding, is it? That _isn't_ the Bordeaux we were going to open on our tenth _wedding anniversary, __**right?**_"

Now that I'm safely out of range, I figure, what the heck? I might as well add to the carnage, it's not like they're getting any calmer up there anyway.

So, I take the opportunity to scream, "_MELON!"_

And when the so-called Hulk smashing begins, I can't tell if it's Grace or Trip who's in action. But I'd guess probably both.

I just hope the Ouija 8ball survives.


End file.
